


Brownie Points

by I_am_a_closet_fanfic_fiend



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Kitchen Disaster!Steve, sad!reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:07:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26416912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_am_a_closet_fanfic_fiend/pseuds/I_am_a_closet_fanfic_fiend
Summary: Tumblr Request:From Anon:  Hi it’s been a really rough week I’ve been sick and hormonal and this is totally up to you but could I get some Steve comforting? Take your time tho love and feel free to ignore
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	Brownie Points

You sat glaring out the window at the team enjoying the warm sunny day. This morning it had been black and stormy and matched your mood, but now it was mocking you with unseasonably warm weather. Perfect for frolicking.

Yanking the shade closed, you curled up on the couch and started surfing through Netflix. Your recommendation list was full of rom coms, but you knew that was either going to end in tears or abject rage at the ridiculousness. 

You had just settled on a fairly innocuous baking show when there was a soft knock on the door. You suspected it was Wanda or Nat who had come to yank you out of your room and cheer you up, so you simply yelled your response.

“Go away.” 

More knocking. 

“I’m not going outside. I don’t care how nice it is.” 

“Come on, sweetheart. Open up. I won’t make you go outside. I promise.” 

Your eyes widened when you heard Steve’s voice. 

“I have snacks,” he added. 

Begrudgingly, you got off the couch and opened the door. Sure enough Steve stood there with a plate of messily cut brownies that looked homemade. Despite your foul mood, you felt a smile spread across your face. 

“Did you make these yourself?” 

“Do I get brownie points if I say yes?” he asked with a quirked eyebrow and a tentative smile. 

“Did you just make a dessert pun?”

“Maybe.” 

“You dork,” you chuckled, stepping back to let him in. “Come on in. Do you want some milk?” 

“Sure. That would be great.” 

He had managed to tidy up your living room to its usual state in the three minutes it took to get the milk. He’d also readjusted your couch, fluffing the pillows and neatly folding down the blanket at one end. You smiled at his thoughtfulness. 

“Thanks for cleaning up,” you commented. 

He scratched behind his ear nervously and murmured an apology, “Sorry. Habit.” 

“No, I’ve been meaning to clean up. Just haven’t felt up to it. The brownies look great,” you added changing the subject. 

“I used your recipe. The super secret one you gave me just for emergencies.” 

“And what made you think this was an emergency?” You asked as you curled up amidst the pillows. 

Steve sat down next to you, not touching, but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off of him. 

“You’ve been sad, sunshine. And that’s an emergency if I’ve ever heard one,” he explained as he stretched his arm along the back of the couch. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“It’s just been a really bad week. I’ve been sick. My emotions are nuts. One minute I’m up, the next I’m down. It just sucks. And I hate it.”

You groaned and dropped your head to your arms. Steve scooted closer and draped his arms around you. 

“Is there anything I can do?” 

“No. It’ll pass. You should go outside. Enjoy the sunshine.” 

“I am enjoying my sunshine,” he grinned at you. “If you want to be alone I’ll go, but If you want me to stay, there’s nowhere I’d rather be.” 

“Thank you, Steve. I guess it would be kinda mean to kick you out after you made me brownies.” 

He shrugged. 

“I mean I wasn’t gonna say that, but yeah. It would be.” 

You nudged his side and reached for the plate of brownies, bringing it into your lap. You each took one and bit into them, only to immediately spit them back out. 

“These are terrible,” he muttered horrified. 

You both chugged the milk to clear the taste. 

“They weren’t the worst brownies I’ve ever had,” you tried to lie. 

“Well, they were the worst I’ve ever had. I don’t know what happened.” 

“Are you sure you followed my recipe exactly.” 

“Positive. A cup of sugar. Three eggs. A cup of chocolate chips. A tablespoon of salt.” 

“Stop there. I know what’s wrong. It’s a teaspoon of salt. Not a tablespoon. That’s why it’s a little ‘t’ in the recipe.” 

Steve flushed to the tips of his ears. 

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” 

“Don’t apologize, Steve. The brownies might not have been, but the gesture was really sweet,” you leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. The action caught him off guard, and he was quiet for a moment, before calling for FRIDAY frantically. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Yes, Captain Rogers?” 

“Please have someone remove the plate of brownies I left in the kitchen.” 

“On it.” 

He scrubbed his hand over his face. 

“I can go get you something else.” 

He was halfway off the couch when you pulled him back down next to you. 

“I’ve got everything I need right here, Steve. Why don’t we get rid of these and we can make a fresh batch.” 

“Whatever you like, sunshine.” 

Excited to bake with him, you pulled Steve to his feet and led him towards your small kitchen. You put on some music and danced around as you showed him all your tricks. 

Since you had warm brownies, you decided to go all in and make brownie sundaes. Content with your dessert the two of you curled up on the couch and turned on Disney movies. 

“Thanks for hanging out with me today, Steve. It helped.” 

“Anytime, y/n.” 

Steve wrapped his arm around you and tugged you tight into his side, where you stayed for the rest of the night, eventually falling asleep. 

You woke up tucked under the blanket you and Steve had been sharing the night before and inhaled as you stretched languidly. Your eyes shot up when you smelled something burning. 

“Steve?!” 

You looked towards the kitchen in alarm, and Steve was dumping the charcoaled contents of a frying pan into the trash can. 

“Steve. Put the pan down and back away from the stove,” you teased, turning off the burner and cracking a window. 

“Ya know, I thought. Just add water. I can’t mess this up. And yet, here we are,” he shook his head as he stared at the stove in defeat. 

You stepped closer to him, taking both his hands in yours as you looked up at him. 

“You’re a real sweetheart, Steve Rogers. But cooking is not your forte. It’s a beautiful day out,” you gestured to the window. “So how about you take me out to breakfast instead?” 

He grinned down at you. 

“It would be my pleasure.” 


End file.
